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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735434">Curtain call</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahMcBeer/pseuds/HannahMcBeer'>HannahMcBeer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Theatre, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:28:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahMcBeer/pseuds/HannahMcBeer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Short theatre AU- Dean is an actor, Cas is a lighting engineer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Curtain call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean opened the door, and was faced with the cool night air. He could still feel the heat of the lights, see the audience, hear the applause. They had been applauding for him, a standing ovation, and at that moment, he had been flying high. It was the moments like these that he remembered why he was an actor. Being on stage was like a drug, and he couldn't wait for his next fix. Of course, after flying that high, the only way to go was down, and down he went. </p><p> He was snapped out of his thoughts by the stage door slamming shut, a thunderous noise in the otherwise quiet back street. He sighed, and began to fumble in his bag, trying to find the pack of cigarettes. He found them, after what seemed like an eternity, and removed one from the battered packet. He placed the tube between his lips before before digging around in his pockets and finding his lighter. It glinted in the moonlight, the intricate silverwork seeming as though it might come alive at any moment.
</p><p>After a few tries, he managed to light it. He inhaled greedily, and could almost instantly feel himself begin to calm down. He didn't know how much of that was real, and how much of it was just a placebo effect, and honestly he didn't care. He closed his eyes, wanting to hold on to this feeling of peace forever, but knowing that it would have to end. At some point he would have to return to real life, to responsibilities, grocery shopping and taxes and bills and all the other boring things that came as a part of being an adult.</p><p>He lazily gazed at the smoke he had just breathed out, spiraling up and up and up, into the sky, twisting and turning, particles spreading out until they could no longer be differentiated from the air they were floating in.</p><p>The stage door opened once again, and out walked an absolutely stunning man. He was slightly tanned,with dark hair, and tall, very tall. He was wearing a dark hoodie, and black jeans. As he walked closer, dean noticed his eyes. There were blue, bright blue, like the ocean, or the sky or like any number of cliche metaphors. Dean could have stared into those eyes forever. He tried to think of a way of describing them, and suddenly it came to him; they were the kind of eyes that were he could have written into poems; poetry blue eyes.</p><p>The stranger smiled at him.<br/>
“I saw you standing out here by yourself, and i thought i'd come say hello. My names Cas. I work in tech; lighting.” Dean smiled back. <br/>
“Dean. I'm an actor, but you probably already knew that, I mean, you have to watch me do the same thing every night. It must get a little boring.” Cas looked shocked at deans words, and hurriedly replied<br/>
“No, its fascinating.” Dean gave him a skeptical look. “Honestly, it is. Seeing the differences between each performance, the mistakes made, and the way you overcome them. I can't imagine how much courage it must take to get up on that stage, in front of all those people, and give your all, and then do that every day for months. You always do so well, every performance and i always think it can't get any better, but then the next night you somehow out do yourself and...” Dean chuckled, and Cas went bright red “I'm sorry, I'm sounding a bit weird, saying all this,”<br/>
“Actually, it's nice to hear some genuine praise. The critics aren't very good at that.” Cas laughed, and dean smiled at him.<br/>
“Cigarette?” Dean offered the packet to Cas. He nodded, and picked one out of the pack. Dean then offered him his lighter, and Cas struggled to light it. After a few tries, dean took the lighter from the man's hands, and lit it for him. Cas smiled at him in thanks, before taking a long drag.</p><p>The two men stood there in a comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each others company. Both were leaning against the grimy theatre wall; both were watching the smoke curling away into the sky. Dean could faintly hear a drunk man shouting, something about his car, and his glasses and then something else about an ex-girlfriend. Fainter still, there was the sound of a siren, and almost inaudible there was the sound of an aeroplane flying far overhead. It was such a contrast to the daytime, the loud, bustling brightness,that it seemed as though it could be an entirely different place.<br/>
They kept standing there  for so long that time seemed almost frozen. They stayed there long after they had finished the cigarettes. Occasionally, one of them would say something, and the other would respond, before they would lapse into silence once again. Neither of them wanted to initiate the sequence of leaving, of having to say goodbye, so neither did. It was only when the faint light of dawn began to colour the sky, bringing the morning, that they left each other's sides, with a promise to meet again, next time maybe somewhere other than outside a stage door in the early hours of the morning.<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is an old piece of writing, but I figured I might as well post it. Constructive criticism would be very much appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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